


Just Keep Smiling

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF, F/M, Game of Thrones - Freeform, Kind of a slow build, OC is a sellsword, Sandor Clegane - Freeform, and fights for Sansaaaaaa, have fun, i guess, idk what else to put
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 09:35:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20006134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jobless, poor and blood-hungry Alia sought the help of an old friend, a certain brash sellsword, to secure a job as Lady Sansa's personal guard. What she wasn't expecting was the likes of a certain Hound, watching her every move.





	Just Keep Smiling

"And that's how I killed four elephants with just a toothpick and my bare hands..." The copper-haired boy bragged, voice thick with a northern accent, encapsulating the attention of each drunken mess in the tavern. Adolescents of similar ages gathered round him, gawking at each word that slipped out of his mouth. His eyes scanned the faces of his drinking companions with a triumphant smirk, growing excited with all the attention he was receiving.

The tavern was perched awkwardly at the side of the road, attracting all variations of people. Due to its exposure, it was infrequent for any misbehaviour to occur, so many of the weak flocked to it, eager to have a warm and safe meal. This obviously included the likes of children and arrogant boys.

"What happened next?" The boy next to him urged him on, one hand grasping his shoulder whilst the other gripped a mug of ale that dwarfed him significantly.

The pubescent leaned in slowly, causing each of the boys to tense, anticipating his next words like they were messages from the Gods themselves.  
"I ate them." He whispered hoarsely, eyes as wide as the scorching sun. A round of applause immediately erupted inside the tavern, praises and laughter fuelling the boy's ego and lightening the quiet atmosphere. As the applause calmed down, two pairs of hands continued to clap, slowly and mockingly. The boy's eyes travelled to the stranger that sat by themselves, away from the main attraction that was himself, smothered in a black cloak and boots, tapping on the side of their glass showing off their two golden rings that adorned their slim fingers.

"And where was this, boy? I must ask." The stranger teased, the light tapping pausing so they could take a swig. All eyes turned to the cloaked figure, only then realising that they were there.

The boy pursed his lips, hesitantly answering with a meek voice, "Essos."

The bluntness of his answer made the stranger almost choke on their drink, letting out an amused hum as they chuckled to themself, returning to the tapping on the side of their mug.

"Ah, yes. Such a small country." They mused. The boy, despite his stupidity, recognised a taunt when he saw one. Fuming, he quickly fired back.

"Watch it. If I can kill an elephant with a toothpick, you best believe I can slit you in half with a sword." He gritted through clenched teeth, beginning to stand as people around him slowly backed away. The stranger scoffed, a tut escaping their lips.

"Spare me. Look at yourself, boy. Your balls have yet to drop." They snarled, letting the hood flutter down the length of their short brown hair, just passing their shoulders, revealing that of a woman.

"You're a girl." He stated in disbelief. 

"You're a boy. I'm glad we can both see." She mocked, forming a frown on the boy's face. People looked between the two, wondering what was about to unfold.

The boy looked around, trying his best to regain the confidence that was knocked from him. Multiple pairs of eyes stared back at him, expecting his rebuttal. 

"I'm not afraid to fight a girl." He countered, an angry crease in his brow.

"Good," She replied calmly, eyeing down the small boy. She was many things, but a child killer was certainly not one of them, especially without pay. "Give it ten years, grow a pair and give me a taste of that elephant... maybe then I'll consider slicing you in half."

The boy dared to smirk, "Am I so scary to you, woman?"

The girl let out a roar of laughter at his words, before containing herself once more, "Killing the weak gives me no satisfaction, boy. Not unless a bag of gold was waiting for me on the other side."

His frown deepened and the girl thought his veins might burst from his skin.

"I'm not weak." He seethed, hands balling into fists and floating by his side. The girl smiled, he would regret saying that.

"I'm sure," she began, stalking over to him, "so, let's strike a deal." The boy looked up to her, his murky green eyes finding the chocolate swirls of hers. He opened his mouth to protest, but no words came tumbling out. "I'll let you live if you deliver a message to someone nearby," she paused, thinking about it for a moment, "and promise to give me a taste of that elephant." She jabbed.

The boy eyed her up and down, eyes pausing on the dagger that her hand had a strong hold on. He saw the cuts that littered her hand, and then met her eyes again, watching how they almost screamed violence. He puffed his chest out, not wanting to appear weak in front of his drunken friends. A mistake, a dire one. Before the boy could blink, the tip of the dagger was raised to his neck, gently pressing against his milky skin. The boy was robbed of his breath momentarily, as the entire tavern stopped and stared, silence filling the airy room.

"You won't hurt me." He whispered meakly, eyes pleading upwards. She felt herself flinch, before bending down and meeting his eyes,

"Then don't give me a reason to, boy." She countered, as her earlier deal bounced around the boy's brain.

He let out a defeated sigh, as his eyes trained downwards.

"What's the message?"

\---

Bronn looked down to the parchment between his fingertips, looking between the words scribbled on the paper and the ginger-haired boy that stood before him. Briefly, he wondered what the woman had done to make this stubborn boy seek him out, yet he found no fun in dwelling on it. His eyes were burning into the name that signed at the bottom of the page.

_Alia._

They had worked together before, years ago, and what began as two sellswords doing their jobs quickly blossomed into a friendship. Friendship was something extremely rare with Bronn, something you had to earn, and he thought it to be even harder to earn from her. Word must have reached her that the imp was hired by him- and like a sellsword, she saw an opportunity. Alas, as the parchment commanded, he found himself in front of his new boss, the dwarf raising an eyebrow expectingly.

"I have you for a sword, what need do I have for a second one? I'd be just as safe but with half as much gold in my pockets." The dwarf stated rather bluntly, not quite sure where this sudden enquiry had come from. The pair were still settling in, and Tyrion did not like the idea of recruiting another person; he wasn't trying to create his own king's guard.

"She didn't say she had to serve you," he began, resting his boots on his desk, eyeing the badge of the hand of the king that fitted Tyrion's attire. Bronn quite liked working for the imp, all he had to do was shut people up and kill them if need be. Everything he did already- except this time he was getting paid a whole lot more.

"She? No wonder you're so keen." Tyrion slyly commented, thinking of the sellsword's brash ways. A wolfish grin appeared on Bronn's face.

"Trust me, I've been trying for years. Never seems to work though." He replied, thinking of all the times the snarky woman had turned him away.

"What are you trying to suggest here?"

Bronn paused, pressing the inside of his cheek with the tip of his tongue- racking his brain for an answer.

"You've seen how the King treats his lady- perhaps Lady Sansa could use her own protection." Bronn challenged, raising his eyebrows as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. He was truly reaching here, reaching to grasp a job for a jobless friend.

"What use is a sellsword against a king?" Tyrion muttered, more to himself, as he looked at Bronn expectantly.

"Not much, but the threat is there. And let's not forget where we are."

Tyrion thought about his words. For once, he was correct. King's landing was truly home to no one, and with the Stark girl as Joffrey's plaything her chances of survival halved in two. He truly felt for the child, her family ripped to shreds and her betrothed was the cause of it. His thoughts danced to that of Littlefinger, and all the other insects that nestled in King's Landing, and Lady Sansa's naivety. He couldn't help but agree that the girl needed some kind of personal protection- but not one paid and loyal to the King. 

"Fetch her. I'd want to see her first," he paused, watching Bronn's eyebrows raise, "but I'm keen on the idea."

Bronn smiled to himself in a silent victory, hopping up from his chair and finding the ginger boy once more- keen to locate his old friend and tell her the good news.

' _You owe me one, Alia_.' He thought.

\----

The pair walked briskly down the dark alleyway that led to the red keep, Bronn guiding them with a torch and staying three strides ahead. Night had fallen over King's Landing, leaving a gentle breeze to keep them company. The cold was nothing new to the pair; they had ventured north of the wall as one of the many jobs they cashed in together. A small smile reached Alia's lips as she recalled the events.

"The bite of the cold feels familiar..." Alia called out, hearing Bronn chuckle softly ahead of her, knowing what she was referring too.

"Aye, although I recall it being a whole lot worse than this." Alia hummed in agreement, remembering the nights they spent around the camp fire, eating food that they had hunted themselves.

"I almost a lost a toe. You almost lost-"

"My cock." He finished, his voice echoing down the alleyway, along with the soft chuckle of Alia. It was true, a quick piss almost turned into a disaster.

Bronn turned to flash Alia a white grin, taking in her genuine smile. They had been apart for so long, she only realised how much she had missed him until she found his company again. At this point, it was no longer friendship that bounded them together; it was a sense of family.

"I've missed you, you know." Alia confessed, as the pair paused outside a red door, engraved with gold.

"I know, me too." He muttered softly, before harshly knocking his knuckles against the door.

"Come in." A muffled voice called from the inside, as Bronn raised his eyebrows, slowly nudging her to enter.

"Good luck, the world is your oyster." He teased, sarcasm coating his words. Alia let out a fake laugh in response, punching his shoulder lightly. The friendly gesture left Bronn grinning again as he took his cue to leave, letting out a whistle as he went on his way.

She pushed the door open, eyes adjusting to the light that filled the room. Alia spotted the dwarf pouring a glass of wine for himself, as his head turned to the figure that had entered the room. Tyrion pressed his lips together to form a tight smile, prompting Alia to return a smaller one.

"Greetings." He spoke, voice thick with that of a southern accent. His hands met behind his back, his head held high. Despite his small stature, Alia felt every much his inferior. It was how the world worked, Lords were above sellswords and sellswords were below Lords.

"Greetings, my Lord." She echoed, tilting her head downwards in a curt bow, showing her respect.

Tyrion pursed his lips, looking her up and down, almost expecting her to do something brash.

"You don't seem morally screwed." He enquired, expecting any friend of Bronn to be exactly that.

"I believe you've spent too much time with Bronn." She countered, raising a single brow.

"Perhaps I have," he lifted the chalice to his lips and took a large gulp of wine, before his eyes widened in sudden realisation, "oh, forgive me. Where are my manners?" He let out a soft laugh, as he glanced back to his bottle of wine, "care for a drink? It's on me." He insisted.

Alia grinned in response, "I wouldn't dare refuse a Lord."

"Ooo," Tyrion began, pouring wine into the second glass, "I like you." He turned and handed her the wine, as she instantly raised it to her lips and drank. Tyrion pondered at the sight before him,"Is there such thing as a sober sellsword?" Tyrion asked, watching her curiously. 

"I've never met one," she admitted, pausing between her gulps, "how could we be? Anyone sober on our job wouldn't last long." Tyrion raised a curious brow at this,

"How so?" Alia eyed him in return. He knew why, he just wanted her to say it.

"Because we kill people for a sack of gold. Point me to a man who could do that sober." 

"I could point to a few who'd do it for the sake of it, regardless if gold was a factor." Tyrion muttered to himself, thinking of all the horrid men that infested the capitol.

"Aye, I bet they're all cunts," she drawled, causing a booming laughter to erupt from the lion. She paused, thinking on her next words, "you can't point to anyone," she continued, catching Tyrion's attention once more, "those who kill for the hell of it aren't people, they're just cunts. Nothing more, nothing less." She explained, dropping the empty chalice on the table nearby.

"And you're better, doing the dirty deed for someone else, all for a sack of gold?"

"Never said I were." She mumbled.

Tyrion's face found a smile again, this was a sellsword he could make use of.

"Good."

**Author's Note:**

> This is just chapter one! I'm really enjoying getting back into writing. I know this was kinda short- but it's a foundation.


End file.
